


Let's Have Dinner

by beltainefaerie



Series: Bel's Tumblr Ficlets [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Johnlockary - Freeform, Multi, Murder, Polyamory, Possible developing relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 13:07:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1511648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A crime scene, an unusual relationship and an invitation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Have Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote johnlockary before S3 and I will continue to write it forever. I know some people were really upset by the version of Mary revealed in HLV. Perhaps this takes place in an AU that departs from TSoT where Mary really is who she appears. Or, if it helps, envision any other incarnation of Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and Mary Morstan. It doesn’t have to be BBC, though it is set in modern times.

John and Sherlock had rushed to the crime scene. It looked like a murder, but there was something about it that made Lestrade call Sherlock.

The wife was currently a suspect, with jealousy was a possible motive. Some people in the building had seen the man coming and going at all hours with someone who wasn’t his wife. But some things didn’t really add up. They had only been on the scene for five minutes when Sherlock had ruled out infidelity. There was another woman, but rather everyone was fine with what was going on.

“You sure about that, Sherlock?” Lestrade asked, one brow raised.

“Of course it would be hard for you to understand with the state of your marriage, but yes, I am positive. Take a look around!” He walked from room to room as Lestrade and John followed, “Three placemats out, each with a couple stains from regular use. Not merely a dinner party. He crossed into the kitchen and opened the fridge, surveying the contents. After a moment, he pointed triumphantly, declaring, “Three chicken breasts are marinating, suggesting that it wasn’t merely last night’s dinner, but in fact a usual occurrence. If someone was merely staying with them for a few days, that wouldn’t account for the consistent wear of the carpet under all three of the dining room chairs.”

He led them back to the bedrooms, firing off deductions. They discovered that there was a layer of undisturbed dust on most surfaces in the guest room. No sign of regular use and certainly no sign that it had been prepared for a visitor. The master bedroom, however, had 3 pairs of slippers beneath the king sized bed.

“The closet has men’s clothing on one side and lady’s clothing on the other. Typical. But the hanging organizers for socks and pants. Why, do that when there was a bureau right here?” He opened drawers rifling around. “See here? Still women’s clothing but a different type and colour scheme. And…” He rushed out of the room, returning brandishing a framed photograph, "That includes this outfit. Clearly their ‘best friend’ spend most of her time here.”

By the end of the day, Sherlock and Lestrade had uncovered the real murderer. The victim was killed by a business acquaintance who was embezzling. When their victim confronted him, the man killed him, hoping to bury his secret long enough to escape. 

Sherlock had scoffed, ‘If the colleague had dug a little deeper, he probably could have used blackmail instead of murder, since obviously these three didn’t want it generally known that they were all together. Not that I approve of blackmail. Nasty business.”

—-

Over dinner that night, John tentatively told Mary about the case, gauging her reaction.

She looked at John steadily. “I certainly think that if there is love, that isn’t anything to be ashamed of. If there is anything this last year has taught me, it is that people have a much wider capacity for love and forgiveness than I ever thought possible.” She paused a moment before adding, as neutrally as possible, “How did Sherlock feel about their relationship?”

 _A loaded statement if ever there was one._ John swallowed, looking down as he replied, “He didn’t seem phased by it.”

Mary caught his eyes waiting until he fully looked up again to ask, “And were you?”

John cleared his throat, scrubbing his hand over his face. _Christ why can’t we just talk. Why does it have to feel like this?_ , “I think people should try to be happy. There isn’t enough of that in the world. Carve out a place you can find it.”

Her eyes narrowed, considering, before she added with a tiny decisive nod, “I think you should invite Sherlock to dinner.”

“Sherlock? Here? For dinner?” _Could I be any more awkward. She said dinner not a bloody orgy. Jesus._

Mary smiled and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, “Yes, dinner, John. I know he doesn’t often _eat_ , but you might see if he is _hungry_.” Somehow, her tone her subtle emphasis, made him nearly certain that the subtext wasn’t in his head.

“Right, love. I’ll check.”

_Did we just have the conversation I think we had?_


End file.
